Immaturity

Does the sight of this fella make you think of hot summer evenings? Do you get weirded out by his bulging red eyes?

I see a marvel of nature and am grateful I got to witness his maiden flight today. Terry was packing his car to go on one of his camping trips and I walked outside to see him off on his journey. Right under my car was this beautiful specimen of this year's historic cicada bloom. His exoskeleton was close by and I was incredulous at seeing them close together. How did that large winged fish bait come out of that tiny crunchy shell?

I threw Terry a kiss and ran inside to get my camera so I could take a photo of it. I studied entomology in college, so I have a bit of a fascination with bugs. Luckily, I got the picture just as it started flapping its wings and flipped over in seaming distress. I was horrified. "No, don't die right before my eyes. You have songs to sing this summer!" I gently nudged it allowing it to grab onto my foot. I breathed, it fluttered and made a short, graceful flight to our Japanese Magnolia tree. I’m calling that yoga.

In doing some research, I discovered this one was actually a female (remember, I got that close and saw her underbelly) so I stand corrected. The bug in the picture uses pronouns she/her.

But before all this, yesterday as Terry and I were having lunch I could faintly hear the strumming of a few cicadas in the distance. It wasn't yet the hypnotic droning of thousands, but it was a taste of things to come. Immature and not yet at full throttle. Soon, my dear, soon.

It's that way in our yoga practice, too. As we come to our mat and melt into the rhythm of the called sequences, we discover that like this year's cicadas we are almost there but not quite yet. We remember to extend our arms and bend one knee in Warrior two, but we forget to level the hips and pull the head back over our shoulders.

We have heard in the news about this super bloom; this is a once in a long time event of two species of cicadas emerging from the ground at the same time. The last occurrence of this event was in 1803. Due to the life cycle of one species being about 13 years and the other is 17 years, you'll have to wait for 221 years to enjoy the double brood again.

That's about how long it takes to mature in a yoga practice as well. No, not 221 years, but 13 - 17. LOL! We need to take our time to enjoy and improve the nuances of a pose. We get tired, our hamstrings cramp at inopportune times, we forget to breathe. But just like watching the maiden flight of a cicada, staying with your yoga practice for many years is rewarding beyond words.

So is your progress. Beautiful and timeless.